


Te Ge'tal Ver'verd

by Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)



Series: Plot Bunnies [9]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Bounty Hunters, Child Abuse, Feral Behavior, Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Adoption (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Slavery, Whipping, Zabraks (Star Wars), star wars: the old republic - Freeform, thalassophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar
Summary: Stolen at a young age and sold into slavery a young boy is saved by a group of Mandalorians and adopted into their clan.Years later the young man leaves the Mandalore Sector to participate in the Great Hunt.
Series: Plot Bunnies [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1384588
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Little Red

Pain lanced through his back as the sharp crack of the whip echoed off stone walls. A stuttering gasp left him and his body ached. Blood dribbled down his face from a busted nose and split lip. For any man this kind of treatment would have broken them long ago. How much worse, then, would it be for a boy of only nine?

Being larger than the other children in his age group meant he was often singled out. Being one of three Zabraki didn't help his case any either. Especially not when he used his appearance and size to scare off some of the more cowardly guards. The spitting and hissing had earned him the split lip. Biting the guard who tried to take little Saeri earned him ten lashes. But he was never one to think of the consequences when it came to protecting the other, smaller, children.

This pain was not something he would wish on anyone, but it was better than the alternative. The idea of little Saeri being at the mercy of the guards made him feel sick to his stomach. "Still awake are you?" The Devaronian asked with a vicious grin as he came into view, grabbing his chin to force his head up. "Tougher than you look." The boy growled and spat blood onto the male's face in defiance. The guard made a disgusted sound before punching him in the gut.

Coughing for breath he missed the moment the guard turned his back and called to the others waiting outside. "I want him tossed in the Well. Let's see how defiant he is after that." Growling as they untied him from the posts he tried to fight, to kick and bite and claw, but it was no use. They were larger than he was and with their combined weight they were able to pin him down.

They dragged him through long, dirty, halls and with each step he felt his twin hearts beat faster in his chest. He knew where they were taking him and he was terrified.

"P-pleathe, stob!" He tried to speak through the blood clogging his nose and the swelling of his cheek but the guards ignored him. The time to grovel had passed, there was no turning back now that he'd pushed them this far.

Coming into the large chamber he felt the air become damp and cold, making his body shiver in response. They dragged him over to a stone ledge and dropped him to the stone floor. Surprised he couldn't stop himself from falling flat on his face with a groan. The guards laughed, the harsh sound loud in the cavernous room. "How long?" One of them asked.

"Long enough." Came the reply from the head guard. Then hands were on him once again and he was hauled over to the Hole.

The darkness was a gaping maw, yawning open, ready to devour him. He struggled and was shaken harshly for his trouble. Then his feet were dangling over nothing and he froze. "Try not to die down there."

Suddenly he was falling.

Down, down, through the darkness until he was enveloped in a searing cold that burned against the gashes on his back. Immediately he flailed and reached for the surface, arms straining against the pull that wanted to drag him down. His face broke the surface of the water and he took a deep breath of sharp air that tasted like salt. The sound of echoing laughter and the lapping of waves against stone was all that met his ears as he looked up toward the faint flickering light above. The cold seeped into his bones as his eyes adjusted to the near darkness around him. He tried to keep his head above water, even though he barely knew how to swim, and forced himself to focus on the light above. If he started to think about the darkness below him, what might live in the depths beneath his feet...

The older slaves told stories about the Hole and the Well. How sometimes the guards spoke in hushed whispers about those who vanished without a trace. No one, not even the guards, knew how deep the Well was, if it connected to anything at all, and what sorts of things might live in there.

It was the not knowing, the waiting in the darkness, that sent cold dread down his spine. His hearts beat in his chest and it felt too loud. Blood sluggishly flowed from his wounds and he wondered if something could scent the blood in the water. Would the last thing he saw before he died be the darkness? Would the last thing he felt be the tightening of jaws around his body before the air was sucked from his lungs and he drowned?

It felt like he had been trading water for an eternity when a loud splash nearby made him panic. He flailed about in an attempt to distance himself from whatever had made the sound, terrified that something would drag him downward. His limbs were so tired as he tried to keep himself afloat yet adrenaline forced him to move.

"Grab on!" He heard someone yell from above. Stopping his thrashing he strained his eyes and just barely made out the rope that was trailing into the water. "Hurry up, we don't have all day!" The voice snapped. Gritting his teeth he swam over to the rope and looped it around his body, gripping it as tightly as he could with his cold, unresponsive, fingers. They started to haul him up and he began to shiver as cold air kissed his exposed skin.

Once he was hauled back onto the stone ledge the guards grabbed him and dragged him back to the others. "Don't cross us again or we'll leave you down there next time." Tossing him into the cell they locked the door and left, not caring if his wounds became infected or the cold air of the cell made him sick. He was just a slave, after all Easily replaceable.

After a few minutes of not hearing the guards the other children crowded around him, the older ones beginning to fuss.

"Oh Red, your poor back!" Something pressed against his skin and he let out a hiss of pain, wincing as fire shot through him. "I'm sorry! I just want to dry you off a little. We don't want you to get sick." To get sick was a death sentence. There was no reason to give medicine to slaves when they could easily replace them. Although there were a few slaves who he knew had negotiated with the guards before and received medical treatment for themselves or others. But he didn't want anyone to debase themselves for him.

"What did they do to you?" Djaryl asked as he cupped Red's face gently and prodded at the bruise around his eye. When his eye reacted the older boy let out a sigh of relief. Really, they needed to stop worrying so much about him. He'd had worse, he'd be fine.

"What they always do." He growled. Ten lashes and being knocked around wasn't that bad, even if it hurt 

"Then why are you wet?" He hesitated as Philo put a hand on her hip and scowled at him. He had a hard time lying to her and she knew it.

"...they threw me in the Well." The other kids let out low sounds of fright and concern. Red hunched in on himself, trying not to think about the cold, seeping, darkness. Something warm collided with his front and he jumped slightly in surprise. Little Saeri, eight years old with liquid blue eyes and tight blonde curls, carefully wrapped her arms around him and started to cry, making him let out a low rumble of comfort. Gently he rubbed her back, trying to soothe her fears. "I'm right here, Saeri. I'll be okay."

It took a while to calm her but eventually she dropped off to sleep. Djaryl carefully took her from him then handed her over to Philo and the other girls, so they could all get some proper sleep. Tugging him over to the 'nest' they'd made out of discarded scraps of cloth and whatever soft moss they could find the others helped him lay down on his front with a shirt shoved under his head. He wanted to protest as the others bracketed him on either side, making sure he couldn't be seen by the guards who passed by the cell, but he didn't have the energy to. He was supposed to be the protector but he couldn't help feeling weak and useless as the others shielded him with their smaller bodies.

"Rest, Red. You always take care of us. Let us take care of you this time." With a sigh he closed his eyes, listening to the heartbeats of those around him and soaking in the warmth of their shared body heat. He would sleep for a while, heal up a bit, then he could go back to keeping the guards at bay. He just needed to get his strength back.


	2. Silver Eyes

It took three weeks for his back to heal enough he could get up and work. While he was unable to get up the others protected little Saeri in his place, hiding her from the guards whenever they came by. Red felt lucky to have been born a zabrak, it meant he was a lot tougher than the guards gave him credit for.

Wiping the sweat from his brow he grimaced at the grimy smear on his arm and wiped it off on his pants. Lifting the pickaxe above his head once again he struck the solid stone as hard as he could. Fine dust kicked up around them and he was glad for the square of cloth worn around his mouth. Small shards of stone bit into his hands but he ignored the feeling as he leaned against the wall for a short break.

"What are they even trying to find?" Djaryl asked with a frustrated huff as he carted the loose rocks over to the cart nearby. It was grunt work and he wished the other boy didn’t have to do it, but it was less dangerous than what Red was doing. They’d heard horror stories of other slaves finding pockets of explosive gas or smaller cave systems filled with harsh natural chemicals. In those stories it was always the one holding the pickaxe that died.

"Don't know." He said in response. "Don't care." Curiosity could get you killed and Red didn't want anything to do with that. He had his little group to think of, after all.

The shrill whistle coming from the other end of the tunnel made both boys tense before they slowly relaxed. Their shift was over. Nodding to Djaryl to head out first Red grabbed the tools and bundled them up in the sack they came from. If they forgot even one of the tools they’d be accused of stealing and trying to escape. As Djaryl pushed the small cart ahead of him, crawling on the ground through the short tunnel, the light from the small lamp began to fade.

Red’s eyes adjusted as he continued his task, barely noticing the shifting light until it was nearly engulfed in darkness. With all of the tools in the sack he tossed it down the tunnel ahead of him and got down onto his hands and knees to crawl out, pushing the sack ahead of him. The cramped space made him jittery but he was thankfully not afraid of small or cramped spaces. In fact they were some of the safest places for a slave child.

Coming out of the tunnel he took Djaryl’s hand as the older boy helped him up. One of the guards was stalking down the larger tunnel, barking orders and ensuring that none of the tools had been left behind. Setting the sack on the tunnel floor and stepping away from it so they could be inspected he watched the guard warily. The green skinned Twi’lek male looked over at them and his eyes were scrutinizing. “Getting a little big for this kind of work, aren’t you?” It was obvious he was talking to Red, who stood a head taller than the boy next to him. Djaryl was three years his senior and human, though he was a little smaller than some of the other human boys.

“You’ll be transferred to the larger tunnels soon, earlier if you keep causing shit.” The guard bared his teeth in a wicked grin and Red had to place a hand on Djaryl’s back to keep him from saying anything. The guard was amused by their silence and dropped the sack of tools into the cart being pushed by an older slave. “Get.” He demanded sharply.

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Back in their cell for the end-cycle break he sat with the little group he’d claimed for himself and ate the awful gruel that had been given to them. As he was taking a drink of water from his canteen an enraged scream echoed down the tunnels. Everyone stopped in place, heads whipping around to face the place the noise came from. Two guards came jogging down the hall, pulling someone who was kicking and screaming along with them.

“Ke'ne tigaanu!” The small writhing mass shrieked at them, wrenching their limbs and trying to get free. A third guard quickly ran over and unlocked their cell, hissing at them to get back or there would be consequences. The younger children scattered, hiding behind the older ones who often stood between them and the vicious guards. The moment the other two were close enough they practically threw the new kid into the cell and the third guard slammed the door shut- locking it.

The small mass launched itself at the door, yelling in a language that Red didn’t understand. Once the guards were gone the other child, for that was clearly what they were, finally turned around and regarded them all with a flash of angry silver eyes. They had gray skin and no hair to be seen. Whether it had been shaved or their species couldn’t grow hair he didn’t know.

“It’s alright, you’re safe here.” Philo said as she took a careful step toward the child. “I’m Philo, what’s your name?”

“Ad be Kurshi’cin.” The dark haired girl blinked in confusion.

“Is… that your name? Can we call you Ad? Do you speak Basic?” The child crossed their arms and glared.

“I don’t talk aruetii!” Philo looked back at him and Djaryl, uncertain what to do. All of the kids who were brought to them had been scared and quiet, ripped from their homes or loved ones and in need of comfort. This child looked like they were looking for a fight.

“We’re not your enemy. The guards are. We’re all slaves here, you can relax.” The child spat onto the ground and Red smelled blood. Ignoring the others he grabbed his canteen and walked up to the much smaller child. They couldn’t have been older than Saeri.

“Red…” One of the others said behind him, trying to warn him. He stepped up to the child, amber eyes boring into silver, and he took a small swig of the canteen before holding it out to the kid.

“It’s water. You need to clean your mouth out or it could make you sick.” The child glared at him and he stared back, implacable as stone. The child snatched the canteen from his hand, watching him warily, and sniffed at the contents. Finding nothing wrong they took a swig and spat it out onto the ground before taking an actual gulp. Red nodded and held his hand out for the canteen.

“Tion gar gai?” The child asked. Red shook his head.

“We don’t know that language.” A light violet color bloomed on the child’s cheeks, embarrassment maybe?

“Di’kutla aruetise.” They muttered. “Who you? Name?” Red tilted his head and gave the child a smile. Making sure to keep his lips closed so he looked less threatening.

“Red. They call me Red.” He motioned to the others around them. “And this is my clan.” The child seemed to perk up slightly, finally looking more like an actual kid and less like a rabid animal.

“Red.” They said with a nod. “Ni gai Shashai.” They frown for a moment then point to themselves. “My name. Shashai. It is Silver.” Red smiled.

“We’ll take care of you, Silver. Don’t worry.” The child grinned at him.

“My buire will come. We take you.” Red wasn’t so certain about what that meant but he smiled reassuringly nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations;
> 
> Ke'ne tigaanu- Don’t touch/Let go!  
> Ad be Kurshi’cin- Child of the White Tree. (Clan name)  
> Aruetii- Outsiders.  
> Tion gar gai- What's your name?  
> Di’kutla aruetise- Stupid outsiders.  
> Buire- Parents


	3. Rescue

Silver was an interesting child, to say the least. Although they had been quick to state their age, six, they had seemed confused when asked about their species. At first Red thought it was the language barrier, and that certainly seemed like a major part of it, but it seemed like the very concept of species meant nothing to the kid.

“Silver. Djaryl is a Human and Red is a Zabrak. Byt is a Twi’lek. What about you?" They scrunched up their face in confusion and the older kids decided to drop the topic altogether. They didn’t want to stress the child out after all.

As the two of them were talking things out in whispers between them Red felt a tug on his arm.

“Red… I Mando’ade. What... Zaab-rahk?” The child said when he looked down, raising a brow in silent question. He blinked for a moment before letting out a small huff.

“I’m a Zabrak. Red skin, horns, orange eyes, and two hearts.” As he explained he motioned toward each thing mentioned, tapping his chest twice, once on each side. “Zabraks look a lot like me.” He finished. The child pointed at Byt, tilting their head curiously. “Byt is a Twi’lek. So is Shiri.” He pointed toward the dark blue skinned Twi’lek boy before turning and pointing toward the pale green skinned Twi’lek girl. “They have two head tails.” He brought his hands up to his head and mimicked the twin lekku with his hands. “Twi’lek.” The girl looked between the two of them, so very different yet clearly the same species, and something seemed to click.

“Ni nakar'mir- I not know. Buire not look like me. Buire like…” The kid motioned toward Philo.

“Your… boo-ear-ey?”The child scrunched up their face.

“My… big ones. Like Philo, watch over small ones, much big.” They stood on their toes and reached up with their hand to try and show how tall they were. After a moment it clicked.

“Your parents, or the adults who take care of you.” Silver beamed at him, nodding.

“Buire find when I small. Nakar’mir… many things.” They shook their head again, pouting. Red smiled and put a hand on their head.

“I understand, they aren’t your birth parents but they’re your parents anyway.” He didn’t know the name for it but it happened frequently among the slaves. If someone’s parent didn’t make it back there was always someone who was willing to step in and take care of the kids. “Sometimes I think I remember my parents but they were probably other slaves.” There were very few Zabraki, after all, and he had too many Zabraki traits to be half.

At least that was what the guards had said.

He was lost in thought until he felt a smaller hand in his own. He looked down at the child who just tightened their grip and grinned up at him. “No worry. My buire will come. We take you.” Understanding what the word buire now meant he could only look down at the child with a mixed kind of sadness and hope. He closed his hand around theirs, hoping it would comfort them.

“I’m sure they will.” Silver eyes stared up at him, determined.

“We take you. Haat, ijaa, haa’it.” He had no idea what those words meant but he understood the tone; it was a promise.

“…I believe you.”

* * *

Ever since the new child had been placed with them the guards had been acting… strange. Almost as if they were afraid of the kid who was half the size of Red. It might have been because they fought tooth and nail whenever anyone who was not Red or one of the other kids came along. Or it might have something to do with the way the child would hiss out words in that other language. In any case the guards didn’t tend to bother with them and by extension they left anyone around the kid alone too.

More often than not it was Saeri and Shili, who, despite being intimidated at first, were quickly becoming their friends.

Now, Red didn’t really care about people’s biology as long as it wasn’t a danger or they needed special medicine or something. So in the end it was Philo who brought up the idea that Silver might be a girl.

“What do you mean ‘might be’?” He asked in confusion.

“Some people don’t like being called a boy or a girl, some species don’t even have boys or girls.” Red only nodded. He could understand that. He’d heard that there were sentient rocks and plant species, although they might be myths, and neither of those would have boys or girls. At least… he thought. “Silver doesn’t even use he or she when talking about other people. They always say that one word… kaesh? Keish? They use it for everyone so I don’t think their language has words for boy or girl.”

“So… why does it matter?” The older girl looked back at the other children, looking worried.

“If the guards find out Silver is a girl they might try to take them. Because… because some of the guards like it when you fight back.” Her voice was barely a whisper and it sent a shard of ice straight through his chest. He wanted to reach out to her but didn’t want to scare her. If she was already upset then reaching out to hug her, even if he was trying to comfort her, might end badly. So instead he opened his arms and waited for her to come to him so he could reassure her.

Philo sniffled and clung to him for a moment before she took a step back. “I’ll protect Silver. Don’t worry about them.” Red didn’t try to keep her there, letting her leave his embrace the moment she tried to move.

“I worry about you, Red. The guards are going to get really mad at you one day and then you’re going to disappear; just like Tan-yui.” He felt a shiver run down his back at the thought.

Tan-yui had been an older girl with flaming red hair and green-blue eyes. She had protected the other children, going so far as to knock one of the guards out by slamming them into a wall. The guards found it funny at first, teasing whoever had to deal with her. But over time they just got more and more angry. Until one day Tan-yui just never returned.

After that none of them had felt safe until Djaryl, Philo, and he stepped up to take her place as the protectors of their little group. After all, they each owed Tan-yui for saving them at least once. They didn’t want her determined protective spirit to disappear with her.

“I’ve been quiet. Not causing trouble. They’ll forget about me sooner or later.” Once someone new showed up and they become the new choice of entertainment.

“Just… be careful.” He let out a small sigh, knowing he could never promise that.

“I’ll try.” It was all he could do.

* * *

Eighteen cycles passed and Silver was finally warming up to everyone. More often than not they would trail after Red whenever they were in the same area but slowly they started to follow Philo and Djaryl around too. Although neither of them were given a nickname like he was.

“Red Ori’vod!” The child would yell with a grin whenever he returned from the tunnels. He would smile as they barreled into his side for a quick hug.

“Are you okay Silver?” As he sat down to eat he would listen to the child babble in that mix of Basic and their language. Sometimes they would be excited about something, usually someone tricking the guards or two of the guards fighting, but sometimes they would quietly rage about how the other slaves were treated.

“That’s just how it is here.” He would say with a small sigh. “I wish it was better.” Most of the time they would curl into is side and mumble more promises that they would all be saved. Other times they would start to hum quietly to themselves.

He never asked about the words to the songs. He probably wouldn’t understand them anyway.

When they went to sleep at the end of the cycle he would always find Silver waiting for him in his usual spot. When he finally laid down on their makeshift bed he was surprised to find Silver curling up into his chest, looking for comfort. Since they had arrived they had only ever curled up against his back. This was the first time they’d actively sought out this form of comfort.

Never one to shy away from helping the other children Red pulled the child closer and rumbled deep in his chest. Silver looked up at him, startled, and he just smiled down at them.

“Tooka?” They asked in confusion. He chuckled.

“Zabrak.” Silver eyed him for a moment before mentally shrugging and curling closer so they could listen to him purr. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep and Red found himself drifting close after.

* * *

Thirty-three cycles later Red finally understood what Philo had been trying to warn him about.

Because Silver was constantly hissing and biting at the guards they started to get angry and, orders or not, started to act out when it came to the child. Things came to a head when they bit the hand of a guard captain. The backhand came so quickly that no one had a chance to stop him and Silver slammed into the ground in a heap.

The other children shook and cried quietly as the small form of the child lay there, unmoving. The captain hollered for a whip and his blood ran cold. Before he knew it he was tensing to move.

“Don’t!” He heard the hiss behind him. Glancing back he saw Philo shaking her head, eyes wide and scared. “Don’t do it, he’ll kill you!” She whispered. Looking back at the small form of the child then back at the older girl who had always tried to take care of everyone he gave her a small smile. “Red-!”

His muscles bunched as he turned, lithe body surprisingly strong after his years of working in the mine. The whip descended and he dove in front of it, holding up his arm to catch the length before it could hit the child. He cried out in pain as it bit into his arm but didn’t dare try to yank it out of the captain’s hand.

He knew what the guards would do if he tried to keep a weapon. They would call it a revolt.

They would kill everyone.

Using his body as a shield without fighting back meant that they were more likely to just focus on him, rather than the others. They might kill him but they would leave everyone else alone and that was just the price you paid to protect others in a place like this.

“Little bastard!” The captain growled as he stalked forward. Red tensed but wasn’t quite prepared for the boot to his stomach. He let out a pained gasp and doubled over, clutching his aching ribs. The captain leaned down and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him up. “If you want to die that badly then wait your turn. Once I’m done with that little bit-”

Red didn’t give him a chance.

Rearing his head back he slammed it into the captain’s face as hard as he could. The guard shrieked in pain and rage, letting go of his arm and dropping him to the ground. Red could feel blood on his horns and grimaced in disgust.

“Grab him!” The captain snapped, words dripping with venom.

Guards scrambled to hold him down but he knew that there was no chance he was going to get out of this alive. So he let his mind sink deeper into that place he rarely allowed himself to go.

That dark and feral place where consequences meant nothing. Where teeth and claws, fists and feet, were the only language he understood.

Snarling he ripped his arm out of one guard’s grip and kicked them in the face, even as he turned and bit the ear of a second. “Hiso! Cuf shuree!” _‘Come! Fight me!’_ It had been a while since he’d spoken the language he had been raised with, the language he didn’t use around the guards because it was something that belonged to him that the slavers couldn’t take away. But he was too far gone to his protective anger to realize he was no longer speaking Basic.

Ripping a chunk out of another guard, who swore and punched him in the head, he hissed. Shaking his head he focused on keeping himself between the fallen child and his Clan’s tormentors. His chest heaved for breath and his limbs felt heavy. Blood was dripping into his eyes and he had to wipe at his face so he could see.

“Just kill the brat already!” His head whipped around to glare at the captain, who had retreated to the back of the group of guards. “Where the kark is my back-up!” The man yelled into his comm.

Time seemed to slow as Red’s eyes swiftly tracked each guard, trying to decide who he should defend against first. Silver was still behind him, though they were beginning to stir finally. A sudden cry from behind him almost made him turn around but the guards were too close, he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

The sharp edge of a pickaxe embedded itself in one of the guard’s backs and the man screamed in agony. Djaryl let go of the handle and threw himself backward, away from the guard he had attacked. Suddenly there were more angry cries as more of his little clan decided to fight back.

“Tze! Tze’cuf!” _‘No! Don’t fight!’_ He tried to tell them, but it was already too late. They were already involved now.

Hearts beating against the inside of his ribcage, like the drumming of an angry war god, he threw himself onto the nearest guard. The man was much larger than the other guards and made short work of plucking him out of the air and slamming him into the ground. Philo used a shovel to attack the back of the guard’s knees and he cursed, falling to the ground. Clawing his way to his feet, like a wraith, Red grabbed a rock from the ground and bashed the man in the head.

He fell. Dead or unconscious, it didn’t matter. As long as he was out of the fight.

A shot rang out and a small form fell to the ground with a scream.

It was Djaryl. His hands were wrapped around his stomach and he was curled into a tight ball of agony.

A new group of guards had appeared with blasters. “Get back against the wall now or I will slaughter all of you like the feral little shits you are!” No one dared to move. “You have to the count of five!” The Bothan aimed their blaster at Silver and Red instinctively moved to stand in front of the smaller child.

“Or-ori’vod?” Came a quiet but unmistakable voice.

“Silver… stay down. It’s safer.” It took him a moment to find the words, his mind busy focusing on the enemies before them.

“Dar’baati, ori’vod. Ner buire olar.” Before he could ask them what they meant the sound of blaster fire erupted from down the tunnel.

“What the hell is going on down there!?” Was this a full revolt? Had his actions sparked something much bigger?

The guards went down quickly, far too quickly. The beings who had caused him so much suffering and pain suddenly strewn across the ground like discarded toys. Coming into the light of the tunnel a group of armored people with a scary amount of weapons appeared.

“M-Mandalorians?” Rasped the captain of the guards, who was leaning against the far wall with a blaster wound in his chest. “Why the kark are you-?” Another bolt went into the man’s head, without a single word spoken by the armored beings.

The group came closer and Red hissed, bristling as he stood in front of Silver. The other kids had been quick to grab their friends and pull them away from the downed guards, trying to hide behind Red and comfort the wounded.

He had no idea the sight he made as these warriors looked down at him.

A red skinned boy sporting warrior markings. Body battered with wild glowing eyes and blood dripping down his face. His small body shook with strain and adrenaline as he stood in front of the other children, as if he alone could protect them.

“Ori’vod, dar’baati! Ner buire!” The child reached up to hug his waist, not caring about his bloody state, and the Zabraki boy sagged slightly. Helmeted heads turned to regard the small silver-eyed child and two in particular rushed forward.

“Cuun ad! Me’vaar?” Blinking at the familiar cadence to the words he looked between Silver and the armored people. The child let him go and ran to the two warriors, arms open and expression happy.

It was their parents.

Red couldn’t help letting out a small choked sound as he realized that Silver’s parents really had come, as promised. The first warrior caught the child in their arms and lifted them to their green and blue armored chest. Silver babbled too fast for Red to even try to understand them. But he was happy that they were reunited with their parents relatively unharmed.

All of a sudden his strength seemed to just vanish, leaving behind pain and exhaustion. Shaking his head to clear it as his vision blurred he almost jumped out of his skin when the second armored individual, blue and green armor in a mirrored pattern to Silver’s first parent, reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He growled defensively but the figure made no other moves. Just stood there quietly for a moment.

“Udesii, calm down child.” Their voice was accented and strange through the helmet. “You are the one called Red?” Fidgeting he glanced at Silver and saw them give him a bright smile.

“Y-yeah. They call me Red.” He motioned toward the other children, who had become quiet and were watching the new adults warily.

“You protected our child.” They said evenly. “We thank you.” Red could hear the sincerity in their words, the immense gratitude, and felt his face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Anyone would have- I just-” He swallowed, uncertain how to respond.

“She calls you ori’vod.” Looking up at them his confusion must have been clear on his face. “Sibling, older sibling specifically.” There was a warmth n the tone that he wasn’t certain he quite understood.

“They are all my clan.” He said, trying to explain why she might see him as a sibling.

“We are going to take you all with us. Do any of you have family to return to?” Red glanced over at the other children and shrugged.

“Some of them might, but no one talked about it.” The armored figure nodded and motioned some people forward.

“We have medics, they can look at your wounds.” Looking to Djaryl and Philo, who were both injured and in no place to take command, he turned back to the figure.

“Help them.” The figure nodded once and the warriors quickly fanned out to make sure everyone was okay. Red sagged further into the figure’s hand on his shoulder.

“What is your name atinyc verd’ika? Not what those hut’uune called you; your name.” Looking over at Silver, who was snuggled into her other parent’s chest like it wasn’t made of hard metal, he saw her smile at him.

This was someone who had been calling him brother, who had promised that someone would come and take them away to safety, and she had been right. She had kept her promise and proved that she was trustworthy.

“Scindo.” He found himself saying. It had been so long since anyone had spoken his name he’d almost forgotten it entirely, until he started repeating it to himself daily to ensure he would never lose sight of who he had been. Of the fact that he was a person and not just a slave. “Scindo Agreave.”

“Su’cuy, Scindo Agreave, ad be Kurshi’cin. Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits for the Zabraki Language here;  
> http://www.dream-designs.net/zabrak/lang.html  
> http://www.dream-designs.net/zabrak/language.html
> 
> Mando’a;  
> Ni nakar'mir- I don’t know/I am unaware.  
> Haat, ijaa, haa’it- Truth, honor, vision. (A way of sealing an oath/pact)  
> Ori’vod- Elder sibling/Elder brother  
> Dar’baati, ori’vod. Ner buire olar.- Don’t worry, elder brother. My parents are here.  
> Cuun ad! Me’vaar?- Our child! Are you alright?  
> Atinyc verd’ika- Stubborn little warrior, an endearing term for a child.  
> Hut’uune- Cowards  
> Su’cuy, Scindo Agreave, ad be Kurshi’cin- Hello, Scindo Agreave, child of the Kurshi’cin.  
> Kurshi’cin- White Tree. A Mandalorian clan.
> 
> Zabraki;  
> Hiso! Cuf Shuree!- Come! Fight me!  
> Tze! Tze’cuf!- No! Don’t fight!


End file.
